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ETHAN ROGACION If you’ve recently been to The Lab at Kelburn campus, or its more recent off-shoot “Kimchi Noodle Bar”, chances are that you’ve noticed something… weird about their menus. It all looks really… glossy? And, is that a raw egg yolk sitting on top of a bed of vegetarian fried rice? No… it couldn’t be… DOES THAT HAND HAVE SIX FINGERS? As you may have noticed, The Lab’s new offering appears to be using AI-based image generation in order to create images advertising their menu items. Some of the most egregious examples include an image of orange juice, surrounded by fake reviews. Additionally, a person with six fingers—who also apparently does not know how to use chopsticks—is shown picking up the noodle salad. The noodle salad appears to be comprised of nine cubes of assorted vegetables. One eagle-eyed Salient reader wrote in to us, saying that, “[Kimchi Noodle Bar] are making the food, they should be able to take photos of it to advertise properly. Otherwise, I can’t trust that the food that they have is anything like what they show in the ‘photos’.” Yuan Ng from The Lab told Salient that, “Whilst rebranding the store [from The Lab to Kimchi Noodle Bar], our photographer was unavailable to help us take any photo as they are away on a holiday.” Ng says that they used the “technology available to us all” in order to solve that problem. It is unclear whether Kate Middleton took inspiration from The Lab or not— Salient has reached out to Buckingham Palace to confirm.

DAN MOSKOVITZ (HE/HIM) Aoteroa loves birds. Ask any kiwi about our biodiversity and you get loads of aroha towards our native kiwi, takahē, kākā, weka, and more. Here at Salient, we have a bird of the week. But here’s the thing: we shouldn’t.  New Zealand loves birds too much. Our avian infatuation comes at the expense of other cool creatures. New Zealand has 170 native bird species, not much more than our native lizard population of 126 species. But that pales in comparison to the invertebrate-to-vertebrate ratio. New Zealand has 35,000 species of animals in NZ, of which 33,000 are invertebrates.  Yet our invertebrates here are neglected, as is the trend worldwide. In Europe for example, researchers studying mammals receive 500 times the funding  than one looking at invertebrates.  Invertebrates for reference are species without vertebrae (spines). Think insects, jellyfish, squid, starfish—pretty much anything which isn’t a bird, mammal, fish, reptile, or amphibian.  Hence Salient (well, just me really) decided to give our native invertebrates some attention. I emailed every Member of Parliament to account and asked them the hard-hitting question; “What’s your favourite invertebrate?”  We received a multitude of responses from a variety of MPs. Here are some prizes for my favourite responses.. Most culinary-based reason: Carmel Sepuloni, Greg Flemming, and Maureen Pugh all said crayfish (kōura) purely because of how tasty they are. Green MP Scott Willis also said the freshwater crayfish, though he didn’t mention eating them. Funniest justification: Labour MP Arena Williams’s favourite invertebrate is the giant wētā—because one bit her badly enough to draw blood a few months back.  Most popular invertebrate: Also the wētā. Its five votes beat out the aforementioned kōura (four votes), as well as bees and worms, which both had three responses each. And fair enough; wētā are awesome  Most unique invert: National’s Suze Redmayne chose the colossal squid (which you can see at Te Papa). Colossal squids live up to their name; they can be up to 10 metres long, weigh 800 kilos, and fight life-and-death battles with sperm whales in the deep ocean. They’re the world’s largest invertebrate.  My favourite answer: Alongside Salient , I also work as a research assistant here at Vic where I study velvet worms, also known as peripatus. So when Dunedin duo Rachel Brooking and Ingrid Leary responded with peripatus, I was a happy happy man.  Cool inverts which I don’t have the words to get into: Pūriri moth, cinnabar moth, octopuses, powelliphanta snail, alpine grasshoppers, and more.  Best response: “My favourite invertebrate is David Seymour” - James Shaw.  i

ETHAN ROGACION (He/HIM) The Government released its draft policy statement on transport last week and the news is bleak for anyone who wants to go anywhere other than their flat and the dairy down the road. Funding for public transport, walking, and cycling has been significantly slashed by the latest policy, down $1 billion from the initial allocation set by the prior Labour government.  In addition, while money has been allocated for some roading projects, the draft policy statement has said that none of the funding for local roads is to be used on “multi-modal improvements” like bus or cycle lanes, and that “there will be reduced funding for traffic calming measures, such as speed bumps.” This isn’t just bad news for woke lefties who cycle to their coffee dates wearing vintage Green Party jumpers or whatever, either! The latest announcement hits hard at blokey-blokes who hoon their modded Honda Civic down The Terrace at 11pm—road user charges (RUCs) are set to be introduced for all cars, and the cost of getting a rego is set to increase over the coming years. “The whole idea of driving an electric vehicle was that not having RUCs would be a major incentive to get them, so putting it on electric vehicles AND petrol vehicles will just incentivise people to drive diesel vehicles again,” said one second-year management student who had a shocking amount of things to say to Salient  about road user charges, adding “[i]t just seems like a money making scheme!” Criticism has come swiftly from the opposition: the Greens’ Julie Anne Genter labelled the policy “pathetic,” stating it “will condemn kids to being stuck in the back of cars rather than having the freedom to get around their neighbourhoods and to school by walking or biking.” “People living on low incomes already have to spend a far higher share of their income on transport. Forcing them to own and operate a car to get around, or to pay more for public transport, is not going to reduce cost of living.” All of these policy changes from central government follow a vote by the Greater Wellington Regional Council to increase fares on Metlink services by 10%, and to scrap the Community Connect concession for under-25s.  Metlink group manager Samantha Gain told Salient that, “A report before council estimated that without a fares increase, a rates rise of 3.3 percent would be needed to cover public transport costs, expected to climb by 19 percent in the next financial year. Approximately third of Metlink funding comes from fares, the rest from government and regional council rates.” Better dust off them running shoes … it seems like they may soon become the best option.

Words by Mairangi Campbell, Ngāti Porou, Ngāi Tūhoe | Apiha Matauranga (Academic Officer) I sit in my desolate room, accompanied only by a half-drank bottle of beverage of the yeasty persuasion. The incessant drumming beat of pedestrians echoes through my bedroom window. I find myself contemplating the achievements, the dread, and above all, the love of suffering that quintessentially defines what it means to be a university student. To put it bluntly, being a university student is hard. Therefore, in this edition of the magazine, we're going to explore the myriad life lessons that have so painfully defined my year(s) of study, in the hope that you can navigate your life and academics with a bit less difficulty. First and foremost, what may seem obvious can, believe me, be an easy trap to fall into. So, number one: Do not go to karaoke night at The Residents on a Thursday evening and stay there until 4 a.m., especially if you have a tutorial at 8 a.m. the same morning. It may be tempting to relax with a sunrise tequila in one hand while being serenaded by the sweet tunes of Mariah Carey, sung by Maia Karohi from Lower Hutt. But trust me, it is not worth it. Choose to go to bed instead. When choosing tutorial, workshop, and lecture time slots, opt for the ones you realistically will attend, not the ones you aspire to go to. It's very easy to harbour an idealised version of ourselves when deciding which lectures, labs, and tutorials we should attend. Many begin the year with high aspirations, believing this will finally be the year they wake up early for their 8:30 a.m. lectures. If New Year's resolutions have taught me anything, it's that some things never change. So, set the bar low. Give yourself some flexibility for later in the year when assignments begin to pile up and you find yourself staying up until 2 a.m. writing that last-minute essay, inevitably missing that dreaded morning lecture. Finally, embrace the resources and communities available to you. If you are Māori, consider joining Ngāi Tauira. As a wise person once said, being a university student is hard, but being a brown one introduces its own set of complexities that only a handful of students will understand. University can feel like a very culturally isolating experience. So whether you're into Te Matatini or Dragon Ball Z, join Ngāi Tauira. Whether you're a kapa haka fanatic or prefer the writings of Oscar Wilde, join Ngāi Tauira. Whether you're a fluent Te Reo Māori speaker or just learning your pepeha, join Ngāi Tauira. A place where you can be authentically and unapologetically yourself. Authenticity allows your academics to flourish. Thus, as I inch ever closer to that desired word count of 500 words, I can only wish you the best of luck in your endeavours. Do dumb stuff. Learn some stuff. Embrace the journey with all its ups and downs.  Chur.

Candidly Weighed-Up by Flynn Rodger (he/him) For the sake of your student loan debt and general mental health, I hope you never do, but if you feel academic burnout looming on your horizon and file this article away for later, I won’t tell anyone. Promise.  Contrary to how I felt as a big-brained child, there are a lot of people like me. I excelled in primary school, coasted through high school with minimal studying, and in my first year at uni I crashed in a fiery, burning heap. My ‘fees free’ went down the toilet, along with most of my relatives’ opinions of me. Woe is the ‘gifted’ student who never learned how to study. But somehow, I persevered and recovered (or at least continued) my journey.   Now that I’m in my third (technically 2.5nd)  year and my mindset has shifted, I feel qualified to give out unsolicited advice on what to do if you find yourself in my disintegrating Doc Martens one day. For the sake of your student loan debt and general mental health, I hope you never do, but if you feel academic burnout looming on your horizon and file this article away for later, I won’t tell anyone. Promise.  You may be wondering, “What happened Flynn? What was it that smacked you out of the air like the meandering housefly you were?” and while I’d love to tell you that my slow yet steady decline was simple and reversible, the truth is never so pristine.  Leading up to my first year at uni, I wasn’t looking after myself. I wasn’t eating enough, I was constantly anxious, and turned self destructive at the slightest inconvenience or perceived failure. I drifted through the rapids of my first trimester like a lost baby duckling sent careening down a river. I was incurably miserable. There was only one thing for it: psychiatric medication.  The decision to go on antidepressants had been a long time coming, and it’s exceedingly ordinary for young people out of high school to seek biochemical assistance or counselling. I did both, and while I felt better, my study took a back seat. I had to devote time and energy towards me , not my work. I changed my living situation, my gut microbiome, and my brain chemistry, but by the time I looked around at my new reality, university had shrivelled like a forgotten indoor plant.  The way I’m writing about this now is rather blithe, but when it happened it was crushing. My whole sense of self was dissolving before my eyes. It felt like the end of my little world.  Looking back from where I am now, it doesn’t seem so bad, but I have the perspective of hindsight.  Not even counselling or trips to my kind academic advisor could save me from the truth that seemed to loom above me, or else weigh on my shoulders like the corpse of an albatross: I would have to drop out, or start over. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and only one of them led to a degree. Time to break it down into a pros and cons list.  Pros of dropping out: Skip the student debt that may crush you for all eternity.  Give yourself the time to pull your shit together without the compounding pressure of overdue assignments.  Do something else, and scrub the mould of anxiety out of your brain, potentially giving yourself the ability to start over at some point with better odds.  Cons of dropping out: Accept the inevitable disappointment in yourself and from others.  Give up on the hopes and dreams that led you here (assuming your degree was a direct path to a career that you could not bypass). Move back in with your family (Assuming you were out of home anyway). Potentially lose touch with your friends at uni who have not flunked out. When you flunk a course in uni, you can get a refund for at least part of your fees for that course, so long as you have adequate documentation of your exceptional circumstances and jump through the right bureaucratic hoops before you run out of time. As easy as it sounds from an external point of view, the absolute last thing I could fathom doing when I was zonked out on meds and stuffed full of anxiety was paperwork. To compound this, I was still a fresher with a confused conception of how university even functioned.  Based on that secondary failure to get more refunded for my failed courses, this is my advice for recouping your fees/fees free: Contact a Health Navigator at Mauri Ora. If you’re not signed up for the practice, you will have to complete intake forms and such, but our current Health Navigators are absolute godsends and can alleviate a lot of stress. Trust.  In the meantime, stop trying to get a million extensions. You probably won’t catch up on all of the work you’ve missed, especially if the cause of your procrastination has not been resolved. It takes more than a mid-tri break to heal your brain. Bite the bullet and consider withdrawing from courses.  If only temporarily, try moving to part time study. With the help of a medical practitioner or counsellor and hopefully a health navigator, you can even apply for Limited Full Time Status to still get a student loan for accommodation. This can absolutely be temporary and will not ruin your entire career path.  Take your time. Be patient with yourself, and kind. I know it’s hard to be good to yourself, though, so any act of generosity is a win.  Please note that these lists are non-exhaustive and not universal. Results may vary. Batteries not included.  I started over last year. A summer of manual labour and strained customer-service smiles filled me with a certain whimsical longing for academia. My reasoning may not have been entirely sound, but in my case these things worked: Starting small; one or two courses per trimester.  Staying in contact with my counsellor at Mauri Ora, and my academic advisor.  Looking into (spicy brain) alternative ways of studying, eg. Pomodoro technique, setting up a designated study space, turning my phone off, ‘To Done’ lists, etc.  Letting go of shame.  That  last one has been much, much harder to achieve than anything else. I’m always working on it. I still feel like academia is the only field I can succeed in; my other skills-sets are in latte art, and tabletop roleplaying games. I’m not sure how to begin deconstructing this, as my mentality is still that if I cannot do something, I must be lazy. A lifetime of procrastination followed by embarrassment has not prepared me to accept myself as imperfect.  But at least I don’t biodegrade like a wet paper bag every time I get a mediocre grade, and I’m not ashamed of my mistakes.

etched by Phoebe Pierard (she/her) As I prepared to present my undergraduate research project at a conference in Melbourne, a small fish in a sea of established academics, I couldn't help but reflect on how different this was from what I had envisioned for my summer research scholarship. My subject, ‘Reading Scrimshaw in Aotearoa’, was all about unearthing the largely forgotten folk art of etched and inked whale teeth. Through this project I worked to illuminate the ways in which material culture can be a valuable history-keeping source. Scrimshaw is the traditional art of carving intricate designs onto whale teeth or bones. This practice has its roots in maritime culture and was particularly popular among sailors during long sea voyages. These skilled craftsmen, known as scrimshanders, would meticulously etch detailed images onto the ivory-like surfaces, often featuring nautical themes, ships, or marine creatures. While scrimshaw originated in other seafaring nations, it has become a part of Aotearoa's cultural fabric, reflecting the country's strong connection to the ocean and rich maritime history.  I spent countless hours sitting in the garden with my laptop, meticulously documenting any instances of scrimshaw that I could find in the museum databases of Australia and Aotearoa. I combed through the National Library and even travelled to the Waikato Museum for their exhibit "Scratching the Surface" and the Butler Point Museum in Hihi. After all of this research, presenting in Melbourne would have felt like the perfect conclusion to my project. At the first challenge, defining the term 'scrimshaw', it became clear that the art form in Aotearoa and Australia had its own unique perspective. Most information is from America, where whaling was most prominent. This was especially problematic when reading literature such as Dr Stuart M. Frank’s Dictionary of Scrimshaw Artists. His definition of scrimshaw seemed at odds with what I had encountered in the Southern Hemisphere. Dr Frank stated that even works made in the same style and technique as scrimshaw are of a different “genre” if made under other circumstances than traditional nautical sailors’ scrimshaw. For instance, prisoner-of-war art from the Napoleonic wars and powder horns are often conflated with scrimshaw despite being made under differing circumstances and with varied materials. Frank was referring mainly to the case of scrimshaw in America, where engraving powder horns “anticipated later scrimshaw techniques”.  In Aotearoa, however, due to the nature of colonisation, the link between nautical scrimshaw and those on bullock horns is far more robust. The connection is seen in the style and period of the artwork. Regardless of its setting or material, all scrimshaw would have been directly linked to the sea. Whether the scrimshander learnt at sea himself or from those who had, it is most beneficial to group these as one. Powder and bullock horns often feature ships despite not being made of whale teeth. Likewise, whale teeth not only feature nautical scenes but often depict scenes from newspapers, paintings, and other images from daily life, such as birds, which are also present in different modes of scrimshaw art. As well as reflecting how Aotearoa was colonised, the depictions on individual scrimshaw challenged me to push the definition of ‘literature’ itself. Unpacking these definitions, and identifying commonalities between these three modes of scrimshaw art (prisoner of war, nautical, and bullock horns) allowed a new view of scrimshaw. The art form was revealed to be deeply literary.  Part of the joy of being able to take on such a project at undergrad level was that I was encouraged to approach the research with an interdisciplinary lens. I had to reconsider what it is to ‘read’ and how art denoted as a craft and associated with illiterate, unknown sailors opens the scope for considering neglected pieces of history as material culture.  The most straightforward way of doing this was to trace the stories and art depicted on scrimshaw. I found myself going through deep rabbit holes, tracing images through time. Many of the repeated motifs on scrimshaw across Aotearoa could be found directly in the newspaper periodical Illustrated London News, which artists used to prick the outline of images they liked to recreate on scrimshaw . More than just connecting it to current affairs on the other side of the world, these illustrations reflected settler ideals and the sense of displacement and desire for home. Often pictured is art from the Royal Academy exhibitions, decorative cups from horse races, and women shown upholding domesticity and civility, often shown reading to small children. While there are limitations to art such as scrimshaw, in that there is often a need for provenance due to its neglect within academia, working with such rich material culture raises the question of what histories we legitimise. Scrimshaw, often unmarked and made by illiterate whalers, tells the tale of those otherwise lost to time. It is a clear, rich source for understanding the circumstances of those who created it. The specificity of researching such a topic in Aotearoa allowed for a greater scope and non-traditional approach: broadening definitions and thinking with an interdisciplinary lens, which must be applied to other forms of material culture that enrich our understanding of history.

ALEX HEINE-SHELDRAKE (HE/HIM) Last week, the Act Party twitter posted a graphic celebrating the “disestablishment of the Māori Health Authority”, days before it had even entered parliament, a move as premature as the party’s leader in his Saturday night search for love.  While the freshers were busy drinking, getting to know each other, and drinking more over the past couple of weeks, the new coalition government has been rushing significant legislation through Parliament under urgency. The latest in this saga is the Pae Ora (Disestablishment of the Māori Health Authority) Amendment Bill, which has faced widespread criticism. Urgency allows the government to get through the lawmaking process much faster, even down to a couple of days, but should be used sparingly. As every disappointing Nuku notification has taught us, rushing that 50% assignment isn’t the best idea. Urgency skips the usual pause periods between votes on bills that normally allow MPs to closely read a bill and offer amendments. It's their job here to think about their constituents (a hard job for many politicians), and ensure the bill doesn’t harm them unintentionally. Without this scrutiny, governments risk passing laws that are ineffective at best, and outright harmful at worst.  Most problematically, urgency skips the select committee stage. This is where the public can write submissions, speak to MPs about their thoughts on the bill, and suggest amendments. Without public consultation, bills often go through exactly how they were drafted, and with little concern for the constituents politicians represent. Obviously, cutting the time a law takes to pass, from 6-12 months to a couple of days, has its flaws. Opposition parties have derided the government’s recent use of urgency, especially surrounding the Pae Ora bill. One critique is about the rushed process. Greens MP Chloe Swarbrick told Salient , “there needs to be regular scrutiny and conventions to ensure that legislation is going to operate in practice and do what it says on the tin.” Without proper process, the sloppy lawmaking urgency can cause rears its ugly head in a big way.  Opponents also say it shows a disregard of Māori communities. Te Pāti Māori Co-Leader Debbie Ngarewa-Packer described the Coalition as putting urgency before the wellbeing of tangata whenua, and said she was “ashamed to be in this House debating this bill.” She notes the government has not provided any alternatives, or communicated with iwi about the disestablishment process. This bill is undeniably a change that has deep and wide-reaching impacts for vulnerable Māori communities, and it is clear the Māori community at large is outraged about their treatment through this process. The end result is a bill passed to fulfill an election commitment with no care for or attempt to consult about its effect on the people of Aotearoa. The government remains firm that it is not misusing urgency rules. Leader of House Chris Bishop told Salient that, “the repeal of the Māori Health Authority is a very simple piece of legislation and all of the issues were well canvassed in the last parliament so we don’t think [select committee] needs to happen.” In his speech introducing the urgency vote for a series of bills to the house, Bishop told parliament that these bills were ones the Government won a mandate for in the election, and therefore, because people knew they were coming, there was no need for consultation. This is how urgency is justified for the Pae Ora bill, and their repealing of Fair Pay Agreements. They also note that they need to fulfill their 100 day plan commitments.  This is the only justification the government has provided for other legislation, such as the Smokefree changes. Other governments have used urgency for their 100-day plans before, but the coalition agenda means changes under urgency far more significant than anything in the past. Labour used urgency to increase parental leave in 2017; this government disestablished an entire government entity.  Objectively, this government has used more urgency than anyone in a very long time. A study right here at Te Herenga Waka on the use of urgency showed that from 1987 to 2010, an average of 10 bills per term were put through under urgency. So far in 2024, 16 have been passed, more than previous governments did in their entire terms.  The coalition has stretched the reasonable limits of urgency in parliament to pass a colossal legislative agenda, both in the individual bill’s significance and the sheer amount of bills. Important legislation is therefore being rushed past the public, and once we all lock back into the year and pay attention, this country will look like a very different place.  In print under the title: ' Chris, David and Winston: Masters of Stealth '

Gently explained by: Pierson Palmer (he/him) If you aren’t worrying about money, someone you know at Uni is. The financial pressure of student living is often seen as quintessential to the tertiary experience. It's been that way for a while, and things aren’t improving. Most students will experience the crunch of inflation, and support systems that aren’t responding. A survey by NZUSA found that 72% of us have experienced stress or anxiety due to the rising cost of living. Being a young adult is overwhelming as it is. New responsibilities, experiences, and people fill your first years away from home with highs and lows. It can be easy to let uni fall by the wayside when demands on your time pull you in so many directions. That’s why a few countries, notably our enlightened friends in Scandinavia, have comprehensive financial support systems for those who study. The idea is that, at such a crucial point in one’s life, you should spend as much time as possible learning and preparing yourself for the future. Not scrambling to get rent paid on time. It all sounds very nice, and what’s frustrating is that  we had a system like this. So here was the deal back in the '80s. You got an allowance, then called a bursary, for attending university. That's it. No means testing, no invasive questions about your love life or your family’s financial situation. It was enough to cover your tuition, housing, and living expenses. It didn’t decrease if you had other forms of income. So working just 10 hours a week would leave you rolling in it. Feeling envy welling up inside of you yet? Personally, when I found this out I wanted to flip a table. Take a moment to snap a pencil. It helps. The once freeing and empowering financial assistance that liberated whole generations of students is long gone. Carved up and whittled down and eventually transformed into Studylink. I won't detail the mess that is Studylink, it would take up 3 pages. For my own sanity I try to visit their goofy, 2000s looking website as infrequently as possible. But statistically, you've likely got a student loan, and even if you get the allowance it has much less buying power. It's not just financial assistance, students are being squeezed from all directions. Housing is more expensive and of low quality, and many students are forced to work part-time on top of a student loan just to stay afloat. All this is to say, it's fucking hard being a student. If you feel like you're drowning, you're not alone. NZ is in the midst of a youth mental health crisis. Mauri Ora can’t just give us all antipsychotics, Ritalin, and a weighted blanket and call it a day. What would you do with your time if you didn’t have to worry about money, or spending your precious youth harassing your landlord to deal with the black mould creeping up the wall? How much of that lecture would you take in if your hospo job didn’t leave you knackered? What would your grades look like if you didn’t waste an hour a day commuting from a far-out suburb just to afford rent? How can we be expected to study like those fortunate students of the '80s, who could easily cover their expenses and still have a little spending money? You're lucky if your study hasn’t suffered in some way. Working while you study can interfere with regular class attendance. Piling shifts on top of lectures leaves you tired, distracted, and scrambling to catch up. Stress screws with your ability to retain information. It leads to health issues and can ruin a period of your life in which you should be discovering who you are, finding new passions, hobbies, and friends. As an interest group, we keep getting the short end of the stick. You should be socialising! You should be  learning . That should be your focus.    At the end of the day, being a smart cookie (yes, you) will only get you so far. You've probably seen headlines asserting the importance of stability, nourishing food, and play, to a child's education. That doesn’t change just because you're all grown up. Your time, in what should be one of the most freeing phases of your life, has been slowly stolen from you. Whether you like it or not, your academic performance is all tangled up with the rest of your life. (Good luck getting that essay in on time with black mould induced asthma). You need a financially stable, healthy, and balanced life outside the lecture theatre to do the mahi you’re truly capable of. It's all a bit depressing, and given the policies of the current government, seems a little hopeless. Focus on what you can control. Take mental health breaks, try to prioritise yourself where you can. Take advantage of all the help the Uni will give you. Talk to your VUWSA reps. Let the wonderful folk at the student success team look over that essay. The system may be working against you, but Vic is still full of people who want you to succeed.

Getting a university degree is often sold to students as a way of increasing our employability and ensuring the sweet promise of job security once we graduate. But in the age of AI, how much do we need to worry about our skills being replaced by robots our degrees considered worthless against a machine? If university degrees prepare students for the workforce, students should also be prepared for the evolutions the workforce is going through. Today, this means students should understand how to use AI and make it work for us, not against us. In the same way a simple understanding of Excel used to propel a job candidate, an understanding of AI is an advantage for the current generation of graduate workers. The majority of senior employees have no understanding of AI. Having even a rudimentary understanding will make a candidate more attractive to a hirer who can’t even send an email without a ‘Sent from my iPhone’ at the end. To get a balanced take on this, I decided to go straight to the source. I asked ChatGPT whether graduate students need to understand AI to compete in the job market, it said: “Yes, having a foundational understanding of AI can significantly enhance a graduate student’s competitiveness in the job market. AI is increasingly prevalent across industries, and proficiency in AI concepts allows graduates to contribute to innovation, data-driven decision-making, and problem-solving. It provides a competitive edge, demonstrating adaptability and relevance in a rapidly evolving job market.” ChatGPT even gave me a list of reasons why AI is superior to a human. It says it is better equipped to handle: Repetitive and routine tasks without getting fatigued or making errors; Data analysis and pattern recognition on a wide scale; Task performance with precision and accuracy; Predictive analytics using algorithms; Continuous operations, being able to work 24/7 without requiring rest and meal breaks; Rapid learning and improvement as data is input into it; Complex calculations with speed and accuracy; Multi-tasking, being able to run many tasks simultaneously to produce a high volume of work. That sounds pretty neat to a capitalism loving employer who focuses on profit and output, doesn’t it? Of course, this forgoes the fact that AI can almost never calculate numbers correctly and is very easily manipulated by being fed incorrect data. That is exactly why a new working generation needs to be able to understand AI, how it works, and where it is flawed. But it doesn’t end there—students can even use AI to market themselves better to employers, drafting a cover letter or asking it to find job opportunities with qualification matches. AI proficiency is a necessity, and students need to be taught how to use it to their advantage, rather than be left behind to be overtaken by it. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. ChatGPT agrees with me here too. I asked it why people shouldn’t be scared of AI, it said “it's a tool created and controlled by humans. While it can automate tasks and make predictions, it lacks human emotions, intentions, and creativity. AI's purpose is to assist and augment human capabilities, not replace them entirely.” AI isn’t taking our jobs, but helping us do them better—as long as we get on board and learn how to use it.

ETHAN ROGACION (HE/HIM)

JAMIE CLUMPAS (HE/ANY) On the 28th of February, Warner Brothers Discovery, Newshub’s parent company, announced their newsroom will be shutting down by the end of June. A lot has been said by many about the looming demise of Newshub , but for us this isn’t just a loss of media plurality and a blow to democracy, it’s watching one of our biggest inspirations fall. Even though Salient may technically be many, many, years older than Newshub , the work that Newshub journalists have done over the last 4 decades has directly inspired many of us, against all better judgement, to have a crack at journalism. So, before Newshub runs off to a nice farm up north to play with its other media friends, we at Salient wanted to remember what their mahi meant to Aotearoa, and what it meant to us. Where else to start but Paddy Gower for reminding us all that this is indeed the fucking news—a moment so iconic it flies proudly above our news section. We at Salient all aspire to one day have a hot mic moment as cunty.  We have to also extend our extreme gratitude for finally getting Paul Henry off the air. Some gratitude retracted for getting Paul Henry on the air in the first place. Newshub’s election coverage over the years has dared to ask the questions nobody else had, like; “has the Prime Minister smoked weed before?” (she had) and; “What if, instead of normal election graphics, we had a giant Laser Kiwi birthing new MPs as eggs and blowing up losing candidates?”  While you made us say “what the fuck Newshub ?” at the time, it brings a tear to my eye to think we’ll soon be saying “where the fuck’s Newshub ?”—right when we most need these sorts of questions asked.  Beyond funny moments, right when it is more needed than ever, the fall of Newshub represents a loss of creativity and hard workers in this field—a loss that will be felt in some way by everyone in Aotearoa. The work of journalists like Paddy Gower, Samantha Hayes, Mike McRoberts, Hilary Barry and so many others has meant so much for us at Salient ,   and for our democracy as a whole. This isn’t work that is easily replaceable, and with the rise in fake and AI generated news content, it is a bit scary to think what will fill that Newshub shaped void. Perhaps the only way to truly honour the loss of originality in our media is with a eulogy that honours a world Post-News. One hastily copied and edited from chat gpt: Newshub was a wonderful news agency and constant support throughout my life. They worked three jobs to meet our family’s needs and never complained. They were loved by friends and relatives and never met a stranger. Now that they are gone, a void is left in place of their presence. You will be so very missed, Newshub. Rest in peace.

Taught by: Sean Dougdale-Martin (they/he) There was a time at Wellington High School during Covid where everyone had to wear masks. During my placement at Welly High the restrictions lifted for a bit, and one day I removed my mask. A Year 10 saw the lower half of my face for the first time and immediately remarked “yeesh, that’s a shame.” At the beginning of teachers training you are recommended to quit any other work you have to focus on the course. I quit two jobs to begin the postgraduate diploma of secondary school teaching and really regretted it. For master’s students who are on placement almost all year round it’s a different story, but I had three placements during the year: one week at Wellington Girls High School, eight weeks at Wellington High School, and eight weeks at Rongotai College. Because the placements are such a deep end, where the lectures once a week are such a kiddy pool, it is make-or-break. The one week placement at the start changes a lot of people's minds. This is generally the week where people realise that teaching as a backup to their arts degree isn’t a great idea.  Outside of these 17 weeks I was at uni two days out of seven in any given week. I didn’t find it too challenging to keep on top of studying during the other five days, but I was dedicating a lot of time to freelance and contract work just to stay afloat. I ended up being a dogsbody at Circa Theatre helping put up and take down sets, looping cables, organising tools and stuff like that. Every single person who has gone through teachers training college will have something critical to say about it. To what extent that is a complete indictment of the course vs  a mere illustration of teachers having heaps to say about everything ever, who knows! I will say that the lecturers do their best; they are always coming from a good place, and trying to do better for the kids. Education can be quite a savage arena. The longer I am in the industry the more I have learned about interpersonal politics between teachers in the classroom, lecturers at teachers training college, and those working at the Ministry of Education. Front-line teachers can be quite critical of lecturers and MoE. Teaching is the trendiest profession, and it’s staggering to recall how much the culture has changed even during my short three years in the job. Because of this, instructors at tertiary teaching courses may not be taken seriously since, after all, when was the last time they actually utilised the strategies they are teaching?  There is no best way to teach, and part of me thinks the criticism of lecturers comes from a place of resentment for any teacher truly knowing more than any other. The job is hard. Kids will tell you the meanest things for no reason, just because they can. They have to be there and some of them hate that., Yyou are paid to be there and aren’t allowed to be upset. The position of teacher is one where you are always improving, realistically this is just like any other job, however the stakes are quite high when dealing with children—you do always wish you could just get it right. However, it is never so simple. One time in ‘23 I bleached my hair. It was my second year at Newlands College and I felt confident and stylish. I walked into my form class and the first thing any of the students said was “do you just wake up, look in the mirror, and lie to yourself?” I find stuff like this funny, but this is one of the more comedic times a student has said something challenging. To work through the actually challenging moments it pays to have strong decompression methods. I free-write as one of mine but I also have a strong network of friendly teachers where I work. Both of these have been necessary for getting through the rougher stuff kids put you through.  I love teaching. It’s gotta be one of the best jobs in the world. I think everyone should teach something at some point in their lives. Not in a high school setting specifically but the act of trying to teach another human, or a group of humans, builds a sense of communication and perspective that I think is necessary for everyone. How can I put this in an accessible way where this person will understand and not try to hit me? The tools that I’ve learned from teaching are tools that I personally use in my day to day life, improving how I interact with other humans. There was a student at Wellington High School who wrote me a letter during class. When he handed it to me I saw my teacher's name and a love heart on the front. It was the first time I was worried about a student having a crush on me. I didn’t open the letter in the class—students having crushes on teachers definitely happens and you just have to deal with them in due course. I needed to wait until I had my Associate Teacher (AT) present after class to open it, so I kept on teaching. The student who handed me the note was acting up a lot this particular lesson, really giving it all the gas his ADHD could afford him. I was knackered by the end of class and couldn’t help but feel as though his tiring behaviour was linked to what was in the letter. My AT assured me that no matter what is in the letter you can’t control how kids feel, you can only put strategies in place to work with what’s in front of you. So we opened the letter. It simply said “sorry Mr Burns for the rest of the lesson. I’m feeling quite evil today and I’m going to act up quite a bit so I apologise in advance.” The relief that washed over me knowing there wasn’t a kid who had a crush on me in the training year was almost counteracted by my awe at the forethought of this kid writing an apology in advance.